The Beautiful Art of Wrestling
by croeuf
Summary: Semi-AU One-Shot. Finnick's three little sisters just adore Annie. They use her as their personal Barbie doll - dress her up, paint her face, and braid her hair, all while chattering her ear off. However, when one of the little girls gets curious about something...intimate, she turns to Finnick and Annie for answers.


**My favorite thing about Finnick &amp; Annie's story is that we have virtually no glimpse of their background. I've always adored the idea of Finnick having little sisters - specifically triplets. I also have a soft spot for the soft spot that they may have had for Annie...**

**Enjoy this (hopefully) little piece of peace within a generally angsty couple...**

**-Em**

* * *

Their tiny fingers weave through her hair, sectioning it into messy braids and chunky twists. They parted her hair into equal chunks, each section a different design depending on whatever they feel fit. Once in a while, they will tug painfully on her scalp, but she's used to it by now that she barely notices. She just relaxes as she quietly listens to their silly, sporadic chatter. Prattling on and on about everything and anything, their small mouths working a mile a minute to vocalize questions and stories and anything else they can think of. They don't demand much of her, just an ear to listen and a head to practice hair styles on.

She has no idea what it is about the Odiar's, but they have this beautiful way of pulling her out of her own head.

Usually, Annie's mind teeters on the edge. Constantly, actually. Every day she struggles with being close to collapse as she tip toes around life. If Finnick slips up and says something triggering without thinking, she falls over. If she gets to close to the shore, she falls over. If she focuses on the stream from the faucet for too long and begins to see streams of red, she falls over.

But with the girls, there is no falling over. That's why, on particularly rough days when she can't get out of bed or eat or focus, Finnick brings her here. As soon as they step through the door, they swarm her like bees, chanting over and over "Annie's here! Annie's here!"

"Annie, we found a pretty seashell yesterday!"

"Mummy said it looked like a turtle's shell!"

"But it's not a _real_ turtle's shell."

"We asked, and Papa said we weren't allowed to get a _real_ turtle."

"Annie, can you tell him to get us a real turtle?"

"What can we name it?"

On and on they drone as they part and braid and lift the strands of her hair. She smiles warmly, straightening her back as she catches herself slumping. She yawns, her eyes drifting shut.

She doesn't realize she has fallen asleep until the girl's giggles wake her up, and something warm is flush with her right arm. Her eyes flutter open as fingers brush her cheek, and Finnick smirks at her.

"How long was I out for?" She yawns, leaning into him as best she can without disturbing the girl's working hands.

"Not sure, probably not too long, though," he murmurs, one of his hands resting on her knee.

One of the girls, Eva, the quieter of the three, grows bored with playing with Annie's hair and ends up curling up on her lap instead. Annie's hands immediately dig into her curls, gorgeous bronze like her brother's and soft as the feathers in her pillow, and she strokes her fingers through them. Her two sisters soon grow bored, and run off to somewhere.

"Annie?" Eva's voice is tiny and sweet, dripping with innocence.

"Yes?"

"Do you and Finnick wrestle?"

"Wrestle?" Finnick echoes, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

"Yes, wrestle!" Her chest puffs, obviously upset that Finnick didn't understand what she means, "Like mummy and papa do!"

"What do you mean, dear?" Annie tries asking again, her fingers working Eva's hair into a tight fishtail braid, "How do your parents wrestle?"

She sighs, shifting herself on Annie's lap as her small vocabulary struggles to find the right way of explaining it.

"Coral and me and Elise went into their room last night and they were wrestling," she begins, and Annie's fingers freeze in her hair, "and then mummy took us into the kitchen and gave us some warm milk and told us that when two people love each other, they wrestle and you and Finnick love each other, so that means you wrestle too, right?"

By the end of all of that, Annie's face is so red you couldn't pick her out of a tomato patch and Finnick's eyebrows practically jump off his forehead as they rise.

"Um…you can't…well," Finnick sputters as Annie sits there, stunned, "Eva, honey, that's not something you're supposed to ask people, okay?"

"Why not?" She scrambles to face Annie for the answer, a frown set on her heart-shaped face.

"Well bec_ause_," Annie bops her nose with her finger, "It disrespects their privacy. It's not nice to ask. Neither is it to tell someone else when two people, err…_wrestle_."

Eva's eyes grow to dinner plates, "_Ooooh…_"

She worms her way out of Annie's lap, off to find where her sisters had ended up. Annie sighs, and falls back against the cushions of the couch, her body pressing into the foam, her hands pressed into her still-flushed face. Finnick lets the laughter he's been holding back go, his feet stomping softly on the floor as Annie chuckles nervously beside him.

"I don't know what is more awkward." Finnick says after he finishes, "That whole conversation or the fact that I now know that my little sisters walked in on my parents doing…_that_."

Annie can't help but laugh at that, her hands sliding from her face into her lap as she bites her tongue to keep her laughing down.


End file.
